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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021042">Bedrest Company</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies'>fishfingersandjellybabies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:40:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Damian forgot just how much his father(s?) loved him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne &amp; Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>239</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bedrest Company</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135657">Bedside Manner</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies">fishfingersandjellybabies</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An unasked-for companion piece to my years old story <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135657">Bedside Manner.</a> Why? I don’t know. Y’all know why Dick is in here too.</p><p>Also, just as an fyi, I'm taking a break from constant fanfiction writing this year to work on original projects. Please go check out the pinned post on my Tumblr to get the details about it, and maybe some ways to support me! :) my tumblr is the same name as here, fishfingersandjellybabies. Thanks a million! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an understanding Damian had come to early in life, thanks to his mother and his training.</p><p>When you fail, it’s your own fault, and you deal with the consequences on your own.</p><p>He knew that. He <em>understood</em> that. He expected no more or less.</p><p>Not even in Gotham.</p><p>So, he was confused, that first time he woke up in the cave under the manor. He was in the medbay, and it felt like his chest was on fire.</p><p>Grayson was slumped at his bedside, still clad in half of the Batman uniform that didn’t quite fit him, fast asleep.</p><p>Waiting for him, Damian realized with dread. Waiting for him to wake back up so they could continue the patrol route Damian had so selfishly took them from with his mistake in the field.</p><p>He pushed himself up on shaky arms, tried to drag himself from the bed. Collapsed off the side of the mattress instead when his elbow gave out from under him.</p><p>There was a clatter of equipment. Damian’s groan of pain, Alfred’s quick footsteps and exclamation of surprise. Grayson’s curse as he jumped out of sleep.</p><p>“…Sorry.” Damian found himself growling as Alfred tried to help him sit up, and Dick came careening around the cot. “S-sorry.”</p><p>“Nothing to be sorry for, my boy.” Alfred promised, ghosting a hand over Damian’s hair. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Fine.” Damian lied. “I-I…just give me a moment and I’ll be suited back up and ready to go…”</p><p>“Go?” Dick barked almost harshly. Alfred sent a glare towards him as he loomed. “Go <em>where</em>?”</p><p>“B-back out.” Damian grunted out. His chest was killing him, he could hardly breathe. And now that he had moved, he could feel a tug along his thigh, like a deep cut. “We didn’t finish the route…”</p><p>“The route…” Dick scoffed, and suddenly he was in Damian’s space, lifting him carefully off the floor. “Fuck the route, kid.”</p><p>“Master <em>Richard!</em>” Alfred scolded. “You are in rare form tonight, aren’t you!”</p><p>“Sorry, Alf, I’m just…” He trailed off in a sigh, and Damian felt him squeeze his arm. Disappointment, surely. How could Damian be his Robin if he was already failing on such a simple patrol? “…I <em>need</em> to know Damian’s going to be okay.”</p><p>
  <em>…Huh?</em>
</p><p>And despite the years between the moments, the first failure with his father was no less confounding. Because, surely, a warrior as fierce as his father would be disgusted by such actions, such inadequacy. The Batman had no time for that. Bruce Wayne expected, and <em>deserved</em>, more.</p><p>So it was odd, to say the least, when his eyes slowly fluttered open, and found his father where Alfred normally was, checking the medical machines he was hooked up to. Prepping tools for stitches, pulling on the latex gloves.</p><p>Suddenly, he dropped the needle, and it clanged loudly in the otherwise silent cave. Bruce let out a quiet curse, fumbling with the other tools, trying to return to that previous sense of order.</p><p>“Bruce?” Someone called out in concern. Drake, if Damian had to guess, but his mind wasn’t clear enough to distinguish the voices of his less favorite brothers right now. Damian saw the shape of someone  - Drake’s height, he thought – walked behind the curtain and Bruce instantly spun around, furiously shushing them. The other held their hands up in surrender. “…Let me help?”</p><p>“I can take care of him.” Bruce said almost desperately. “I don’t need any help.”</p><p>“You…sure?” Maybe-Tim asked. “…Have you been checked out yet?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Bruce countered. “He comes first.”</p><p>There was a pause, the silence saying that Maybe-Tim absolutely did not believe him.</p><p>Bruce was undeterred. “He. Comes. <em>First</em>.”</p><p>“…At least lay down before you <em>fall</em> down, B.” Probably-Tim said. Damian tried to squint to confirm, but his vision just was not working. He heard a noise from his father, the beginning of an argument, but the Most-Likely-Tim cut him off. “I’ll finish Damian up first if you’re that damn adamant about it.”</p><p>Damian drifted back off before the solution presented itself, but he could have sworn he felt his father’s fingers run gently through his hair.</p><p>Once, he awoke in his room, curled into his favorite pillow, the scent of lavender drifting from a candle he knew sat on the mantle of his fireplace. Titus had his head resting on Damian’s stomach, his nose shoved under Damian’s hand.</p><p>“This…you did this so many times when you were a kid.” Bruce huffed softly. He sounded like he was across the room, over by that fireplace maybe.</p><p>“And what’s <em>that</em> supposed to mean?” A closer voice, Grayson, and it made Damian twitch in surprise. Damian turned his head just slightly, let his eyes creak open. Grayson was in a chair next to his bed, looking away, most likely at Bruce.</p><p>“That means that <em>you</em> taught this to him.” Bruce accused. “<em>You</em> made him this reckless. He wouldn’t have run off on his own and try to take that bastard down alone if he hadn’t seen <em>you</em> do it.”</p><p>“…That’s not fair.” Dick snapped back. Damian watched his hand curl into a fist on the chair’s arm. “You…I get that you’re worried about him, so you’re lashing out, but that’s not <em>fair</em>, Bruce. I <em>never</em> let him go off alone like this. I went after him every time, I- <em>we</em> had screaming matches about this every other day. I would rather <em>die</em> than ever let this kid get hurt on my watch. Since day one.” Dick inhaled slowly, crossed his arms. “But I know <em>you</em> have.”</p><p>“You’re blaming <em>me</em>?” Bruce asked angrily.</p><p>“Immediately? Yes.” Dick decided. “Because he was with <em>Batman</em> before he ran off. And, as you’re so fond of reminding me, I’m <em>not</em> his Batman anymore.” Dick leaned back in his chair. “Besides, do I really need to give you a list? You haven’t even been working with him that long and I would need more than ten fingers to name all the instances that I <em>know</em> about.”</p><p>Bruce didn’t answer that. That didn’t stop Dick.</p><p>“But you know what? Why don’t we just give that Morgan Ducard fella a call, huh?” Dick hissed. “Maybe he could name a time or two when you let Damian disappear on his own and it almost got him killed.”</p><p>Even if Damian wasn’t fully conscious, he could feel the fury rolling off Bruce in waves. Even sensed his father was about to speak, about to fall into that old, familiar routine of fighting with Dick for the sake of an injured loved one, when suddenly, Titus gave a soft warning growl.</p><p>Both men stopped and looked over. Titus gave a quiet, disappointed woof.</p><p>“…Sorry, B.” Dick whispered, dropping his face into his hands. “I just…sorry. That was low.”</p><p>“I…apologize as well.” Bruce sighed. “I just…don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get him to see how worried we get when he does that. How <em>unnecessary</em> it is.” A moment. “How much we love him, and don’t want him to...”</p><p>Damian’s heart thudded in his chest, and it hurt. Hurt so much it grabbed onto his consciousness and began pulling him back under. He was able to keep his eyes open just long enough to see Dick look down at him with sad, guilty blue eyes.</p><p>“Me neither.”</p><p>~~</p><p>Then, he died.</p><p>Like he deserved. He understood that consequence. He was weak, he failed. This was how it was supposed to be.</p><p>Then, for some reason, they brought him back. For some reason, they <em>missed</em> him. For some reason, they <em>wanted</em> him.</p><p>And he’d never gotten used to their affection before, their worry when his injuries were warranted, but now it was different. <em>So</em> different.</p><p>It was a simple fall from a building, one Jonathan Kent had caught him from in the nick of time. So, no worries. No splatter on the sidewalk. Injuries and unconsciousness from the rest of the event, sure, but. Whatever.</p><p>But when he woke up this time, he was in his room, and could feel pressure on his hand.</p><p>His first thought was that he’d broken it. He didn’t throw his weapon right, and the enemy was able to counter the move. He remembered yelping in pain, clutching his hand, but jumping back into battle anyway, and forgetting about it.</p><p>But then he looked over, and found that there was no bandage on his hand at all. At least, not that he could see. Because he couldn’t see his hand. Because it was clutched in both of Dick’s.</p><p>Dick himself was asleep, cheek resting on their combined hands, and that’s what the pressure was, his head. His face was turned towards Damian’s, and even in his waking haze, Damian recognized the moisture on his face, the redness around his eyes.</p><p>He’d been crying.</p><p>“You worried him to tears, brat.” Damian heard from the door. Glanced up and saw Jason sauntering in. “Cried himself to sleep.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Damian whispered hoarsely. “He…none of you should be that upset about it.”</p><p>“You fell off a fucking <em>skyscraper</em>.” Jason scolded. “And fell off said skyscaper because you’d been beat to hell before that. Why shouldn’t we be <em>upset</em> about that?”</p><p>Damian shrugged. He felt his shoulder blades pulse at the action. “If I failed, it’s what I deserved. I can deal with the consequences.”</p><p>“You ever think about how those consequences don’t just affect you?” Jason asked. Damian just now noticed he was carrying a tray of food, and put it on the table next to Dick. “Your friend, the little Super who caught you, he’s been half traumatized since. Lois called and said he’s been having nightmares of not catching you in time. Alfred won’t sleep because he’s afraid you’ll have an emergency and will wake up to you dead…<em>again</em>. Your dad’s sunk down into his emo-boy stage and I don’t even know where the fuck he is.”</p><p>Damian blinked slowly, glanced away. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Yeah, well. I know you’re not apologizing for the right thing, but whatever.” Jason said grumpily. “You’re apologizing for worrying everyone, not for <em>not</em> caring about yourself and what happens to you, and believing yourself deserving of this pain and suffering, which is the root of this problem.”</p><p>Damian paused, furrowed his brows. “…But I do.”</p><p>“Debatable. In my opinion, and knowing what I know about the world you lived in before, probably not.” Jason hummed. “To them? You <em>absolutely</em> do not. And by letting yourself get hurt, you’re hurting them, because they love you, and absolutely <em>cannot</em> lose you again.”</p><p>Damian still didn’t look at him. “…They shouldn’t.”</p><p>“Not your call. So stop feeling guilty because they do.” Suddenly, there was a hand in Damian’s hair, ruffling his locks. “Now rest up, kiddo, so I can kick your ass on the mats again soon.”</p><p>Jason left without waiting for a response, softly closing the door behind him. Damian waited a second, before slowly rolling to his side, and carefully shifting to curl around his eldest brother’s head. He stared at Dick’s wet face for a moment before squeezing the hand cupped in his palm and closing his eyes once more.</p><p>Another time, he doesn’t even recall what happened. A fight in Gotham, perhaps? Maybe against his mother? Maybe against Lex Luthor? Was it in California? He wasn’t sure.</p><p>He doesn’t even remember losing consciousness, or waking up. He remembers, vaguely, the feeling of being scooped into someone’s arms, of going through a boom tube, of hearing voices he recognized as Justice Leaguers.</p><p>Everything became clear, though, when he felt himself being lowered onto a cot. Suddenly everything was too loud, too bright, too painful. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel his legs.</p><p>“…fix this.” He heard someone saying. J’onn J’onzz? Red Tornado? The Flash? “I…I really don’t know, Bruce.”</p><p>“He’ll need surgery.” Diana Prince. “I’ll take him to the operating room.”</p><p>Suddenly, something squeezing his hand. “No.” His father. “I’ll take him.”</p><p>“Bruce, you’re hurt too.” Diana tried. “We’ll do what we can for him while we also take care of yo-”</p><p><em>“I’m not leaving him.”</em> Bruce shouted over her. Furiously, desperately, he said, “You want to take him from me? You’ll have to kill me first.”</p><p>Diana sighed. “Bruce…”</p><p>“I…” Instantly, Bruce sounded weak. Small. Petrified. “I won’t try to help. I won’t get in the way. I…” A pause, and a hand on his head. “Please don’t make me leave him, Diana.”</p><p>There was a moment, then: “Fine. But if an emergency arises in surgery and we ask you to move, you have to <em>promise</em> me you will. For his best interests.”</p><p>“If it will help fix him, I will. I swear.” Bruce said eagerly.</p><p>Damian didn’t recall being lifted again. Didn’t recall movement. Just woke again to a mask being strapped over his nose and mouth. He must have jerked, showed signs of life, fought a little, because suddenly that hand was back on his head, pushing his hair.</p><p>“Shh, it’s okay, son.” His father came into view. Not Batman, there was no mask. Just his father. Just Bruce Wayne, face gray and dirty, five o’clock shadow leaning towards a small beard. A tired, scared smile. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you. You’ll…” Hesitation, and Damian’s stomach dropped. “You’ll be okay.”</p><p>“F-father…” Damian tried. He saw J’onn J’onzz come into view. Diana. Barry Allen. Simon Baz.</p><p>“Just go to sleep, Damian.” Bruce whispered. Damian heard the word <em>anesthesia</em> somewhere in the room. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. I’m not leaving. You’ll be okay.”</p><p>The last thing he saw was his father’s terrified smile.</p><p>The first thing he saw when he woke up in a small room in the Watchtower was his father in ugly sweatpants and a sweatshirt that he was pretty sure he didn’t own. His beard was longer now, and looked itchy. He was fast asleep in the chair next to his bed, and snoring.</p><p>His grip around Damian’s hand was still tight.</p><p>Then, Damian got hit with fear gas.</p><p>And it was awful. One of the most awful things he’d ever experienced. He saw so much. Saw so many people. The people he’d killed, the people he’d hurt. The people he loved, telling him how much they hated him.</p><p>He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop trembling. Couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the tears pouring down his face.</p><p>Logically, he knew it wasn’t real, kept trying to remind himself of that. That the voices when he closed his eyes weren’t real. The scenes when he opened them weren’t either. All that seemed to be real was touch. Feeling.</p><p>He felt someone carry him to the Batmobile. He felt someone holding him as the car sped through the streets.</p><p>He felt someone lowering him onto a mattress, someone strapping his ankles down as he kicked furiously at them. He felt himself begging for them to not hurt them. That he’d be good. He’d be a good boy. He’d be a good solider. He’d do what they asked, no matter what it was.</p><p>He felt a warm hand take his. He felt another, larger one take the other.</p><p>He couldn’t stop sobbing.</p><p>A kiss was pressed to his knuckles. His palm held against a warm jaw.</p><p>“We’ve got you, sweetheart.” Someone said. Grayson, maybe? Or his father? He didn’t know. He could see their shapes, even amongst the visions. He recognized they were the ones sitting with him, as other, blurry shapes moved around them. Ghosts? The family? Demons? Assassins? He…he couldn’t <em>tell</em>.</p><p>“You’re safe.” A second voice said. His father, no doubt. It was deep and gravely. Bordering the Batman voice, and Damian would never dare forget the sound of that. “Deep breaths, son. You’re safe.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He shouted. Felt someone press a cloth to his face, wiping the tears. “I’ll do better. I’ll do <em>better</em>, I <em>promise</em>.”</p><p>“Damian-”</p><p>“I’m sorry!” He screamed, tried to yank his hands back to hide his face. To maybe dig his nails into his skin and pull it away. Disappear from reality. “I’ll take the punishment. I deserve it. I deserve all of it…”</p><p>But the hands holding his both just squeezed their grips, as he felt a needle dig into his neck.</p><p>He was grateful for the darkness. The silence.</p><p>And when he awoke, his hands were still held. His father and his brother were still at his side. Both still awake, but clearly in desperate need of sleep.</p><p>“…you believed us, kiddo.” Dick was saying mournfully as he played with Damian’s hand. Held it tenderly in the palm of one while he slowly moved and bent Damian’s fingers with the other. “I just wish you believed us when we say how much we love you.”</p><p>“Sometimes,” Bruce hummed under a yawn. “…Sometimes I hate Talia the most for this.” Even without opening his eyes, he could feel his father’s stare. “How much she made him doubt himself. Doubt what <em>love</em> is.”</p><p>“Normally, I’d happily agree with you, blaming Talia. But this isn’t just her fault.” Dick reminded. Damian felt a kiss pressed to his fingers again. “We’re just as bad as she is, in this aspect.”</p><p>His body suddenly acted on his own, fingers twitching in their holds as his mouth quietly gasped, “No.”</p><p>The men both quieted, and watched as Damian slowly opened his eyes. Bruce watched in silent excitement as Dick stood, wrapping an arm around Damian’s head and pulling him into his chest.</p><p>“…You’re not.” Damian whispered. “As bad. As she was.”</p><p>Dick let out a soft chuckle as he kissed Damian’s head. He hadn’t let go of Damian’s hand, and gave it a squeeze.</p><p>Bruce smiled too. “Perhaps not.” He shrugged. “But we are nowhere near as good as you, Damian.”</p><p>“How you feeling?” Dick asked into his hair.</p><p>“The visions stopped.” Damian said weakly. “So…good, I guess.”</p><p>“Great.” Dick hummed. Bruce, also not letting go of his hand, leaned down and began pulling at the knots of the restraints on his ankles. “Perfect.”</p><p>Damian pushed into his embrace, hoping Dick could feel his gratitude. But when he glanced up, he saw Dick was frowning. “…Grayson?”</p><p>“Just…some of the things you said. From what you were seeing.” Dick mumbled. “They…they were awful.”</p><p>“…And our fault.” Bruce added. He gently began running his thumb over the back of Damian’s hand. “I’m sorry, Damian. That we haven’t…been listening.”</p><p>Damian gave them a sleepy smile, pressing further into Dick’s embrace.</p><p>“You’re here, now.” He decided, flipped his hands to be the one holding Dick’s and Bruce’s instead. “And I…I didn’t wake up from those nightmares alone.”</p><p>“And you never will.” Dick promised. “We will <em>always</em> be here for you.”</p><p>“Always.” Bruce echoed.</p><p>“You…you will?” He let hope ebb into his voice, just slightly, because for once, he believed it. <em>Let</em> himself believe it. “Really?”</p><p>“No matter what.” Bruce reiterated with an eager nod.</p><p>“…Okay.” Damian whispered. Let his body slump back against the pillow, back against Dick’s arm. “Okay.”</p><p>~~</p><p>He was comfortable, that was his first conscious thought. Comfortable and warm, and it’d been a while since he’d felt that way. Months, maybe. Years? He wouldn’t put it past himself.</p><p>So he shifted to turn, and a jolt of pain went up his body.</p><p>He involuntarily twitched and suddenly, his comfort shifted. He realized instantly – he wasn’t lying in his bed. He was laying <em>on someone</em>.</p><p>He let his eyes crack open to look up at who it was, conclude if they were a threat or not. The person was rubbing his shoulder now, smiling.</p><p>Grayson.</p><p>“Hey, kiddo.” Dick whispered. There was a noise across the room and Damian spun his head around, seeing his father standing from a desk, all but jogging towards them at the sound of Dick’s voice. That’s when the setting became clear. They were in his father’s home office. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Wha…?” Damian looked back up to his brother, whose lap he was using as a bed, the crook of his elbow acting as a pillow. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Are you in pain?” Bruce asked, kneeling beside them. They were on the small couch Bruce kept in the office, for visitors or meetings. It was rarely used. Damian surely never sat on it before. “Does anything hurt?”</p><p>“Yes.” Damian admitted, and for once, his stomach didn’t flip in guilt, in disappointment, as he said it. He didn’t fear retribution or punishment. “What happened?”</p><p>“Bad fight. You came across the gang before we did. There were more lieutenants there than we thought. You got outnumbered, and they…” Dick frowned, and Damian felt him squeeze his shoulder. “They weren’t. <em>Nice</em>.”</p><p>“Well.” Damian sighed wistfully. “I imagine neither were you.”</p><p>Because over the years, he’d learned Grayson’s bleeding heart. He’d learned what made that man tick. He also learned that if you hurt someone Dick Grayson loved, you paid the price, no matter what that price was. He would destroy you, slowly and painfully, if you touched someone in his family, and, as much as Damian still felt he didn’t deserve that attention, that care, he recognized he fit in that category. He somehow gained that protection.</p><p>Dick blinked down at him, then gave him a sly grin. “You should have seen your dad.”</p><p>Damian let his head lull to the side, to look towards Bruce. His smile was, surprisingly, a little shyer. “Do you need any pain meds?”</p><p>“No.” Damian hummed, feeling the pulse of dull pain flow through his veins. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. “How bad is it?”</p><p>Bruce snorted. “Do you want a detailed list or a general one?”</p><p>Damian raised his eyebrows in surprise.</p><p>“Concussion.” Bruce tapped his forehead gently. “Broken nose.” He poked the tip of his nose. “Various bruises and gashes that we could clean up pretty well on our own. Sprained knee.” He gently touched Damian’s right knee, wrapped in a bandage. “Broken ankle and a few broken bones in your foot.” He wrapped his hand around Damian’s toes, the only thing visible outside the sturdy booted cast. Then, more slowly, he raised his hand back to Damian’s chest, pressed his hand over Damian’s heart. “…Broken ribs and a punctured lung.”</p><p>He left his hand there, pressing slightly every time Damian’s heart beat. He had a feeling those injuries were the ones Bruce was most worried about. The ones that dealt with his air, his ability to get oxygen. The one that could, potentially, kill him.</p><p>Again.</p><p>“I think I’ll be okay.” Damian tried softly. “Can’t keep a good Robin down, after all.”</p><p>Bruce stared solemnly at him for a moment, then let his face relax, lips twitch up for just a moment, then leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead.</p><p>“You still need your rest.” Bruce chuckled. “And a few weeks off.”</p><p>“A few <em>days</em> maybe.” Damian scoffed. “Really, I don’t feel too bad.” He glanced around the room, the family photos on the wall. “Why are we in here?”</p><p>The men both glanced at each other, then Bruce stood, turning back towards his desk.</p><p>“We…wanted to keep an eye on you.” Dick admitted sheepishly. “But we still had some work to do for the company.”</p><p>Damian glanced at the desk his father was returning to. Folders and papers and a calculator littered it. He looked up at Dick. “…You don’t work for Wayne Enterprises anymore.”</p><p>Dick smiled again, soft and embarrassed. “…I just…wanted to keep <em>you</em> company. And had nothing else really going on<em>.</em>”<em> I was so worried I couldn’t function</em>, he didn’t say. “But so did your dad and he <em>was</em> busy.” <em>Bruce was so beside himself our identities were in jeopardy because his work wasn’t getting done.</em> “So…it seemed the only logical thing was to all come in here.”</p><p>“Logical.” Damian repeated. Smirked a little. “You used logic once in your life?”</p><p>“Shut it, squirt.” Dick laughed. “Did you wake up because you were uncomfortable? Alfred would scold me for holding you like this. You probably really should be in a bed. I can…”</p><p>Dick shifted to stand, but Damian immediately reached up, tugging at Dick’s shirt.</p><p>“No. I.” Dick stopped, looked curiously down at him. Damian allowed himself to smile. “I’m…good. Right here.”</p><p>Dick’s eyebrows shot up, but then he smiled too, let himself melt back into the couch, and repositioned his arms around Damian’s torso, brushed Damian’s hair off his forehead.</p><p>Damian looked over to find Bruce watching them, a gentle grin on his otherwise stoic features. Damian smiled back to him, leaning his cheek against Dick’s chest.</p><p>“Thank you.” Damian whispered. Stared at his father as he clung to one of Dick’s arms. “Thank you for staying with me.”</p><p>Bruce shook his head. “No.” He mumbled. “Thank you for staying with <em>us</em>, son.”</p><p>He stared for another moment, like he was committing the scene to memory, then returned to his paperwork, his shoulders relaxing. Damian watched for his own second, then curled into childishly into Dick’s embrace and closed his eyes once more, Dick’s shirt still in his fist. Dick chuckled in what sounded like relief, then began stroking at his hair, softly humming a lullaby.</p><p>Damian fell back asleep feeling content. Happy. Safe. Loved.</p><p>And feeling, for once, like he deserved it.</p>
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